Moving On...
by DarkAngelDeSade
Summary: Logan is moving on with his life...but can he protect himself now that Max is gone? PG-13 for swearing.
1. Default Chapter

  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my character, Cam. Everyone else belongs to James Cameron...  
  
  
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Logan sat in his car, blindly staring at the rain beating down the windshield. Glancing at the dashboard clock, he realized it was nearly time for his appointment with Dr. Lansing. With a deep sigh, he opened the door and stepped out into the downpour. Moving slowly, he made his way across the parking lot, not even noticing the rain that streamed down his face, masking the ever present tears.  
  
  
Opening the office door, Logan was met by Rebecca, Dr. Lansing's nonstop, ever perky receptionist. Rebecca was one of those carefree souls, an optimist through and through. Always smiling, always happy, amazingly bright and cheerful. Logan shuddered to think what Rebecca had been like before the Pulse. If she was this blissfully ignorant in the face of what the world had become, then she must have been a ray of pure sunshine back when the world was fresh. Flashing one of her million watt smiles, Rebecca hurried toward him.  
"Mr. Cale! It's so nice to see you! I'm afraid the doctors running behind today," at this her smile dimmed slightly, "you don't mind waiting a bit, do you?". She peered anxiously at him, waiting for his response.   
Logan gave her a close approximation of the smile and said, "That's fine Rebecca, I don't mind waiting. What else do I have to do today?"   
"Now, Mr. Cale! I won't have you talking that way! Could you be any more depressed?" Rebecca chided.   
"Well, that is why I'm here, isn't it? For depression?"   
"I'm sorry Mr. Cale...I didn't mean...you see..."   
Logan held up his hand, "that's OK, Rebecca," he said tiredly, "I know what you meant. No big deal"   
"If you say so..." Rebecca retreated to her desk on the other side of the room, sat down and started humming softly as she began work on a case file.  
  
  
Logan sank down into one of the overstuffed, plush chairs. He closed his eyes and leaned back his head. What was that tune Rebecca was humming? It sounded so familiar...oh yes, now he remembered. That was the song that had been playing the last time he'd seen Bling, the night Logan had driven him away.  
  
  
It had happened about three months after Max was killed. Logan had sequestered himself and his apartment, refusing to see or talk to anyone. Kendra and Original Cindy had tried to reach him, Herbal and Sketchy had called once or twice, even Lydecker and the other X-5's had showed up, but to no avail. Logan had lain in bed, cursing has lousy timing, first in waiting so long to show Max how he really felt, and second in not being there when she needed him most. He had wasted so much time with her, protesting that 'they weren't like that' when any idiot could see what was between them. But now, nothing mattered anymore, because he had failed to the one woman he had truly loved. She had died in his arms, while he, the original ineffectual Romeo, had stood by helpless. It was like something out of a Shakespearean play. So he had shut down, closed up shop, no more Eyes Only, no more anything. But the whole time Bling had been all over him. Pushing for Logan to snap out of it, comeback to the real world. And that's what had finally caused Bling to explode. Logan remembered it like it were yesterday.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~FLASHBACK ~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
"Logan! Come on man, open up!" Bling paused a moment, then pounded on the bedroom door again. "If you won't come out, then I'm coming in! You better be decent!", he turned the handle, but Logan had locked it again. "That's it man, I'm done screwing around with you! Here I come!".   
Bling put a shoulder to the door and pushed, once, twice. On the third try he felt the wood give a bit. Finally he backed off and gave it one sturdy kick, splintering the lock away from the door frame. Logan sat up, with an incredulous look on his face. "What in the hell do you think you're doing!!?" he roared, "get out of here!"  
"No way," Bling shot back to, "I've been standing by the last three months, respecting your wishes to be left alone, but not anymore! You're going to get up out of that bed and stop feeling sorry for yourself!"  
Logan fell back against the pillows and pulled the covers up over his head. "You might as well go way, Bling. I'm staying right here...I don't want to get up...I don't want to do anything. Nothing you can say or do will change that."  
"Bullshit, I'll pull you out of there if I have to!" Bling grabbed the blanket, wrenched it out of Logan hands and threw across the room. He ignored Logan's flailing arms and shouted protests, caught hold of his wrist and physically hauled him out of bed. Bling forced him across the room, to the mirror on the dresser. "Look at yourself, Cale! Look! See what you've become?"  
Logan shut his eyes and turned his head, muttering under his breath, repeating the word ' No '. Bling caught Logan's chin in his palm, forcing him to face the mirror. "Look, damn you!" He shouted, "you're dying in here, wasting away! You have to move on with your life! Max would want that..." Logan peered his reflection, he had lost weight, maybe 20 to 25 pounds, his eyes were rimmed in red, hair dirty and unkempt, his facial hair way past stubble.   
"No," he began quietly, "this is nothing, I deserve much worse than this...after the way I failed Max, I don't deserve to live...there's no reason to live without her."   
Bling let go of Logan's chin and stared at him in the mirror. "You don't mean that, Logan. You can't mean that...what about all of your friends? We miss you, we want you back. What about your work? Max would want you to keep going with Eyes Only..."   
Logan turned on Bling, shoving him back a few feet, "What do you know about what Max wanted?! All she wanted was to be normal!! To have a regular life! To not have to look over her shoulder every five minutes! And what did Eyes Only do for her? He got her killed! That's what! Deep down, she hated Eyes Only! The work was always standing between us...and what good was it all?"  
"You helped a lot of people, Cale, doesn't that account for anything?" Bling asked softly.  
Logan pushed him again, "No!" He screamed, "No! It counts for shit! Max is dead! She died in a horrible place that she never fully escaped! And I led her right back! She's probably rotting in an unmarked hole in the ground, alone! No one will ever lay a flower on her fucking grave and it's all my fault! So fuck you, Bling, because none of it counts for shit!"  
With a wounded look in his eyes, Bling said, "Fine. I'm done. I'm not going to stand by anymore and watch you destroy yourself. You still have people who care for you, and I'm sorry you had to go through all that you did. But I'm finished, don't call me, just forget that you know me. It was bad enough losing Max, because I loved her too, but I draw the line here. You want to self-destruct? Then do it on your own, Cale!"  
And with that Bling walked toward the door, only pausing long enough to say, "You need help Logan, and you need fast. I'm just sorry I couldn't help you." Continuing out the door, he was gone...forever.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~END FLASHBACK ~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
That was over a year ago and Logan and never saw him again. But what Logan didn't know, was that Bling had instrumented his coming to Dr. Lansing. He had kept in contact with Original Cindy and Kendra, keeping tabs on Logan from a distance. One day, while in the local coffee shop, Bling had overheard two men talking about a grief therapist. From what these men had to say, it sounded like the doctor was a miracle worker. As the men rose to leave, Bling intercepted them at the door. He introduced himself, apologized for eavesdropping and explained Logan's situation. One of the men scribbled Dr. Lansing's phone number on the back of his business card and handed it to Bling, wishing him luck.   
Bling made an appointment with the doctor, and met with her himself. After the ' get to know you ' session, he approved of Dr. Lansing enough to pass the number along to Original Cindy, asking that she somehow get it to Logan.   
  
  
Logan thoughts about the day Original Cindy and Kendra had showed up at his door. They rang the downstairs buzzer, calling up to him. Logan had ignored them totally, not even bothering to tell them to go away. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door... somehow they had gotten upstairs. Logan crept to the door and peeked through the fish eye lens. There they were, Original Cindy with one hip kicked out, Kendra with her funky style and sweet smile. Logan leaned his forehead against the door and just stared. It hurt to see them, it hurt because Max wasn't there. He almost couldn't stand the sight, it made Max being gone much too real. As he watched, Original Cindy stepped up to the door and squinted through the lens...her chocolate brown eye mere inches from his own...so like Max. Logan slowly pulled back from the door, moving as quietly as he could.   
"Open up, Boo! We know ya in there!" Original Cindy shouted, startling him.   
Tripping on the rug, he knocked over the hallway table with a tremendous crash. "Damn...", was all he said.  
  
  
Kendra and Original Cindy stood in the hallway, they had just knocked on the door and were waiting for some sort of response.   
"Maybe he's not home.", Kendra suggested.   
"Naw," Original Cindy answered, "the boy is home, from what Bling told me, rich boy ain't been outside in ages."   
Kendra sighed, "This is so sad! I miss Max as much as anyone, but what is he thinking? He can't change the situation..." she fell silent, pensive. Original Cindy stepped up to the door and squinted through the peephole. She couldn't see anything, but damned if she couldn't feel him on the other side of the door, staring out at them.   
"Open up, Boo!" Original Cindy shouted, "We know ya in there!"   
From the other side of the door, they heard a loud crash, followed by a soft "Damn".   
"That's right, sug! We done heard you! Now don't you be keeping us out here all day...open up!" Original Cindy crowed.  
  
  
Logan wiped his hand across his face, looked around, ' no way out ' he thought, ' this is bad...'. Steeling himself, he slowly undid the locks and opened the door.  
  
  
Original Cindy came in like a hurricane, louder, fast, and ruthless. Already talking a mile minute, she was shocked into silence once she got a good look at Logan.   
"Oh, Boo..." she breathed, stretching out her hand to touch his hollowed cheeks, "just look at you...".   
A tear ran down Logan's cheek, splashing over Original Cindy's fingertips. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she enfolded Logan in her arms, crooning in his ear, "It's all right, sug. Original Cindy is here to help...you just lay it all on me, Boo. Let it out...". Kendra burst into tears and joined the embrace, stroking Logan's matted hair. He felt the love, the heartfelt compassion, pouring out of these two women, and something broke within him. Sagging in their arms, Logan sobbed. Sliding down, the three friends lay propped against the wall in a tangled heap, Original Cindy and Kendra trying to soothe Logan as he cried out Max's name and choked on his tears.  
  
  
Sometime later, Logan's grief spent for the moment, they rose to their feet. Original Cindy and Kendra looked over Logan as he leaned against the wall, wrapped in his own arms. He was emaciated, shrunken, his hair and clothing dirty.   
"When was the last time you ate?" Kendra asked gently.   
Logan just shook his head, not knowing the answer to her question.   
"C'mon, Boo," Cindy said, taking charge, "let's get something into you."   
They led Logan into the kitchen. Sweeping aside piles of papers and old food wrappers, they sat him at the table.   
"Jesus," Kendra whispered to Original Cindy, "look at this place!"   
Logan's usually need surroundings looked like a bomb had hit. Trash cluttered most of the surfaces, broken glass was everywhere, and many, if not all of the paintings were on the floor, shredded.   
"Logan, what happened here? Who did all this?" Kendra asked.   
"I did." He answered simply, "it was me."   
"But...why?"   
Logan put his face in his hands, and mumbled, "what else was there to do? I woke up one night, about a week after...it...happened. I was so tired of going on without her...that week had seemed like a year." Logan looked up and met their eyes, "I was going to kill myself...but I couldn't do it. God, how I wanted to! But I kept seeing Max, and she was telling me ' No! Don't give up! ' I had so much rage bottled up inside, I had to let out somehow...so I destroyed everything I could get my hands on. But it didn't make me feel any better...after that I only felt more empty."   
Kendra leaned over and hugged Logan, whispering, "it's going to be okay..." Straightening up, she turned to Cindy and said, "I'm going to make him something to eat. Why don't you go and run him a bath? Then maybe we can get him into some clean clothes and straighten up a bit."  
  
  
It had taken most of the day, but they had managed to feed, wash and cleanup Logan. His apartment was still not quite back to normal, but once they were done, it was a huge improvement. The three friends sat and talked for hours, sorting out their feelings, each of them breaking down more than once. But when Original Cindy and Kendra rose to leave, Logan admitted to feeling better than he had in months.   
Brushing one of her tight, black curls behind her ear, Original Cindy said, "Told ya, Boo. What you need is somebody to talk to...not just hide away in this big ole apartment. Get yourself back on track...and Original Cindy is here to help with that!"   
Without taking her eyes off of Logan, she held out her hand to Kendra, who placed a business card in her palm. Tucking the card into Logan's shirt pocket, she said, "Put away your pride, sug, and go get some help. Original Cindy knows this whole situation is a real bitch, but you can beat it..."   
"And remember," Kendra interjected, "we've got your back...don't hesitate to call." With lots of hugs and promises, they parted ways.   
  
  
Closing the door behind them, Logan took the business card out of his pocket. "Dr. E. Lansing, Grief Therapist" he read aloud. Sighing deeply, he placed the card back into his pocket.  
  
  
Now he was coming up on the one year anniversary of his first appointment with Dr. Lansing. Even though he hated to admit it, he had many more up days than down. Somehow he felt as though he were betraying Max's memory by the simple act of being happy. It was true that he would never forget her, he still climbed to the space needle occasionally, just to feel close to Max. But the hurt was beginning to fade, Dr. Lansing had seen to that.  
  
  
He had told her everything, once he felt he could trust her, mainly because there was no way to tell his story without being 100 percent truthful. Dr. Lansing had seemed skeptical at first, but eventually she came to believe the whole story. After explaining to her the way Max had died, she had suggested the Logan purchase a cemetery plot and headstone for Max.   
"That way," she explained, "you'll at least have some feeling of closure. You'll have a place to visit her. It may help the healing process."   
At first it had seemed morbid, but Logan was willing to try anything that might ease his heartache. It had turned out that the good doctor knew what she was talking about. Having a place to visit Max's memory was a great help, not only to him, but to all of Max's friends.  
  
  
"Mr. Cale...Mr. Cale? The doctor will see you now."  
"Thank you, Rebecca." Logan said. Rising from the chair, he headed toward the door to be inner office.  
"Mr. Cale? Are you sure you're feeling all right? You seemed a million miles away when I called your name."  
"I'm fine, Rebecca, just thinking about some old friends, is all."  
Rebecca smile brightly and nodded towards the door, "well, she's waiting...sorry it took so long today." Logan waved off her apology and entered Dr. Lansing's office.  
  
  
"Mr. Cale! So good to see you!" Dr. Lansing exclaimed, holding out her hand. Logan smiled in response, shook her hand and sat down on the couch next to the doctor's desk. "Now, Mr. Cale, I'm sure you know why I called this special appointment today?"  
"Yes," Logan answered, "today is the 18 month anniversary of Max's death."  
"Very good, Mr. Cale...and how are you feeling about that?"  
"Well, I'm obviously depressed, saddened. But the pain is less than at the one year anniversary."  
" And how are you feeling about the pain being lessened?" asked Dr. Lansing.  
"Rather guilty, if you want the truth. She was so...special to me...a year and a half just seems too...short. I feel like she deserves more than this..."  
"Mr. Cale, these feelings are totally normal. Of course you still feel guilt over the situation...you walked away and Max didn't. In cases like this, the survivor always feels some guilt, it's only natural. But I'm very pleased with your overall progress and I think that we're nearing an end here."  
Logan sat forward in his chair, "What? I don't feel ready yet. Granted, I am doing better...but, Dr. Lansing, do you really think..."  
"Mr. Cale...Logan...I would never consider turning one of my patients loose unless I was positive that they were ready for the world again. You're not quite there, but almost."  
Logan shook his head, "you're the doctor." he muttered.  
"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Dr. Lansing asked, while smoothing a wayward strand of her short blond hair.  
Logan smiled slightly, "Well, I'm going to visit Max...I stopped on the way over and bought some flowers. Then, I'm supposed to have dinner with some friends...that's all, really..."  
"Good, make sure you maintain contact with your friends. After all, there are your support system." She stood and extended her hand. "I'll be seeing you soon, Mr. Cale. Enjoy the rest of your day. And don't forget to stop by Rebecca's desk on the way out, to schedule your next appointment."  
Logan assured her that he wouldn't forget, shook her hand and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dr. Lansing picked up the phone and punched a series of numbers.  
"Yeah, it's me," she barked, "he's coming right to you, make sure you're in position. And don't screw this up! I've been patient for the last 18 months and now I want this whiny little bastard taking care of...once and for all!"  
Slamming down the phone, Madam X kicked her heels up on the desk and gazed out the window. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day.  
  
  


~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED ~~~~~~~


	2. The Cemetary

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed chapter one. This story was originally only going to be a few pages long...but it keeps growing, with no end in sight. So stay tuned...there's a LOT more where this came from!  
  
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Logan drove through several checkpoints, until he was near the edge of town. The place he had chosen for Max's memorial was tucked away, far from the ruins of Seattle, yet still near enough that Logan and the others could easily visit. The cemetery itself was very old, backing right up to the woods. Logan had placed Max's monument near the trees, he felt the wild overgrown landscape suited her best. Untamed, beautiful, yet dangerous. That was Max, through and through.  
  
  
By the time he reached the cemetery, the rain had cleared and the sun was shining. It really had turned out to be beautiful day, Logan thought. Instantly, he felt a stab of guilt, Max had died today, a year and a half ago, and here he was, admiring the deep blue sky.   
"Knock it off, Cale!" He muttered to himself, "torturing yourself over this never helps! Just admit the fact that you're healing..."   
Navigating a sharp curve in the road, he slowed then pulled to the side. There was Max's monument, about 20 yards from the road. It stood in the dappled shadows cast by the overhanging trees and wildflowers grew just behind it, on the edge of the forest. Logan shut off the car, marveling at the silence that fell around him. It was nothing like the city out here, no car alarms, no gunshots or explosions. There was only the wind rustling the leaves and occasionally a bird would sing sweetly. Logan looked around, thinking, "God, I really love it out here...it's so calming. The only thing that would make it better, was if Max were really here." Sighing, he gathered up the flowers he had bought and climbed out of the car. Logan slammed the door, just to hear it echo, the sound bounced back at him from the wall of trees behind Max's monument. Weaving between the headstones, he made his way to the last row and looked up at Max's marker.  
  
  
Logan had searched long and hard to find the right sculptor to create the statue. He had finally found a wizened old man named Amos who lived, and worked, not far from the cemetery itself. After Logan had explained what he wanted, Amos had looked through the reference materials and nodded.   
  
"I can do this," he had said, "but it's gonna cost you."   
  
"I don't care how much it costs, as long as you can meet the exact specifications."   
  
"That, I can do," Amos replied, "it'll look just how you want...", he paused and looked Logan right in the eye, "she must have been something pretty special."   
  
"Oh, she was," Logan answered, "she was."  
  
  
It took Amos three months to finish the statue. When he finally called to announce its completion, Logan gathered everyone together for the unveiling. Original Cindy, Kendra, Herbal, Sketchy, Lydecker, the other X-5's, even Normal showed up. Amos ushered them all into his workshop, a smile on his face. He moved over next to a large, shrouded figure and took hold of the edge of the covering.   
"This is easily my best work," he announced proudly.   
Original Cindy put her hand on Logan's shoulder, Kendra, her arm around his waist. Amos looked to Logan for the signal. Smiling, he yanked the tarp off of the statue, never taking his eyes off the small crowd, awaiting their reaction. Logan felt himself grow weak, "It's perfect..." he whispered. Standing in front of them was an angel on a pedestal, nearly 7 ft. tall, carved from a single block of snow white marble. Her wings were gently spread, head cocked to one side, the right hand, palm up, reaching out to someone. But the look on her face, it was a mixture of love, curiosity and hope, the face itself, was Max.   
"Oh Boo," said Original Cindy, "it looks just like her..."   
Kendra burst into tears, Lydecker looked stunned, the X-5's reached up and stroked the angel's marble curls. Everyone agreed that it was perfect, a mirror image of Max. Logan just stared, amazed by the detail. The angel looks like she was about to climb down from the pedestal, she was so lifelike.   
Tima stepped up to him, "Why an angel, Cale? Why did you put her face on an angel?"   
"She saved me, she loved me, she cared for everyone around her...if that's not an angel, and I don't know what one is, Tima."   
She processed that for a moment, then clasped Logan's shoulder and smiled slightly, she understood.  
  
  
This statue went into place a few weeks later and since then, Logan had visited frequently. Standing at her feet as she reached for him made Logan feel like a part of Max had survived. It was eerie, but in a bittersweet way.  
  
  
On this day, more than ever before, the statue seemed to stare right into his soul. The gentle smile on her face saying that everything would be all right. Logan squatted down and placed the flowers he had brought on the pedestal of the statue. He traced the inscription that covered the base, it simply read, "My Angel". No name, no dates, no need for either because Logan would never forget. He slowly cleared away the leaves that had collected around the marker since his last visit. Straightening, he brushed the dirt from his hands and gazed up at Max's face. "I hope you're at peace.. wherever you are. I'll see you again someday...of that, I'm sure."  
  
  
From behind him, Logan heard the sound of a car door slamming. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Frowning, he studied the new arrival. It looked to be a woman, mid-20s, with long wavy brownish blond hair. She was carrying flowers. Logan didn't like being in the cemetery when others were around, he felt that this was his private time to commune with Max. Turning back to the statue, he began to tell Max, silently, everything that has happened since his last visit, two weeks before. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the woman had stopped at a fresh grave a few rows over. She was kneeling in front of the headstone, having laid the flowers across the top. Logan did his best to ignore her, but he could tell she was crying. "That was me, just last year." He thought.  
  
  
After 10 minutes or so, Logan turned to leave. A few rows over, the woman rose to her feet. Their eyes met, and they shared a very awkward moment. Logan felt a rush of compassion for the stranger. She was obviously upset.   
"Are you okay?" He called.   
Wiping her eyes and sucking in a deep breath she said, "Thanks, I'm fine...it was just so...unexpected. I never saw it coming."   
Logan nodded, "I understand, I was in the same situation a year and a half ago."   
Walking over, the woman stuck out her hand, "I'm sorry, my name is Camilla, but everyone calls me Cam."   
"Logan Cale," he answered, shaking her hand.   
They were silent moment, then Cam gestured toward the grave and said, "He was my brother...he died last week...murdered. I was back east and couldn't get home for the funeral. Even now...here...this all doesn't seem real, like a bad dream." Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and Cam half turned to hide them. Suddenly, she stiffened and threw herself at Logan, knocking him to the ground.   
"What the hell!?" He exclaimed, as she dropped on top of him. At the same moment, Logan heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet ricocheting off stone.   
"There's a man on the edge of the woods...he has a gun! I saw him when I turned! What are we going to do?" Cam asked frantically, her voice shaking. "Why would someone be shooting at me?!"   
"It's not use they want," Logan answered, "I've been wondering what was taking them so long." Logan reached underneath his jacket and pulled out his pistol. Peering cautiously around the edge of a gravestone, he squeezed off a few shots. A hail of bullets came from out of the trees, striking all around them, throwing stone chips and dust into the air.   
"Okay, here's what I want you to do," Logan said, "I'm going to lay down some cover and when I say go, you're gonna stay low and run like hell...okay?"   
Cam shook her head, "No way! I can't! I can make it to the car, he'll get me, I know he will!" She hooked her fingers into Logan's jacket, "don't let him get me!" she shrieked.   
"Cam, just relax...as long as I'm shooting at him, then he'll have to take cover...you can make it."   
"Relax! RELAX!?!" She screamed, "are you out of your mind?! Someone is shooting at us, in case you haven't noticed! That is not something that happens to me very often, so I'm sorry if I can't manage to be blase about the situation! I just met you five minutes ago and now I'm supposed to put my life in your hands!" She laughed, a high, nervous, I'm-about-to-completely-lose-it, sort of laugh.   
"Fine, stay right here then, but stay low and shut up. We might be able to get out of this, if we're lucky."   
Cam looked as though she might faint, but she hugged the ground and shut her mouth. Logan opened fire, clearing the way for him to duck over one row. He squatted behind a large marble headstone and peered around the edge. "Damn!" He thought, "still can't see anything." Waiting for a pause in the return gunfire, he moved over one more row. Risking a look, he ducked back as the bullets slammed into the corner of the stone. A piece of debris lanced across his cheek, scratching deeply. Hissing at the pain, he touched his fingers to his face, feeling blood. With grim determination, Logan began firing into the forest as he darted behind a small mausoleum.   
Reloading his pistol, he glanced around the corner of the crypt. Nothing in the trees...but his blood froze as he took a quick look back toward where he had left Cam. The shooter had emerged from the woods and was standing over her, aiming his rifle right at her head.   
"No!" Logan screamed, lunging around the edge of the mausoleum. He squeezed off two shots, both hitting the sniper...but he wasn't quick enough. Logan saw Cam's body convulse as the bullet slammed into her skull. The soldier had fallen back, shot as he squeezed the trigger end Cam's life. Logan ran to Cam, falling to his knees beside her. He turned her over and saw that blood had run into her eyes. Gathering her into his arms, he rocked her gently, whispering, "oh God, not again...please God...please..."   
Looking up into the sky, Max's angel filled his vision. She was splattered with blood, reaching for him. Logan was rocked by a powerful flashback, imagining it was Max in his arms. His vision clearing, he looked down into Cam's face, not Max's, and noticed one critical difference...Cam was still breathing. Forcing himself to wipe away the blood on the side of her head, Logan saw a deep furrow in her flesh. White bone gleamed, but her skull seem to be intact, it was just a glancing wound. Cam had just been knocked unconscious.  
  
  
Logan took off his jacket and wrapped it around her head, the fabric immediatly growing darker with Cam's blood. Hearing a radio crackle behind him, he spun around, heart in his throat. It was just the downed soldiers walkie-talkie, spitting and sputtering. A voice broke through the static, "Alpha One, this is Alpha Two...come in. What is your status? Alpha One? Come in..."  
Logan knew he didn't have much time before others came to investigate why Alpha One wasn't answering. Scanning the woods, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary...but then again, he hadn't noticed anything the first time around either. Looking down at Cam, he saw the bloodstain growing larger, soaking through his jacket. Throwing caution to the wind, Logan carefully picked up Cam and ran for his car, praying that his exoskeleton would be pick now to crap out. Placing her across the back seat, he ran around the front and slid behind the wheel. Starting the car, he threw it into gear and peeled out of the cemetery, heading for a doctor he'd used in the past.  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED ~~~~~~~~~~~  


  
  



	3. Manticore

Max lay on her narrow cot in Manticore's main barracks. She tucked her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. Mentally reviewing the days maneuvers, she only half heard Brin enter the room.  
  
"So what was with you today? Throwing your gun away during maneuvers is not exactly what Madam wanted to see. She's been in a foul mood lately and it doesn't pay to disappoint her."  
  
Max sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot, placing her feet on the cold tile floor. "I don't know what happened. I was moving in for the kill when I suddenly had this overwhelming feeling that I needed to get rid of the gun. But it doesn't really matter...the target went down anyway."  
  
"True," Brin replied, "but close combat isn't what you're being trained for, remember? You need to work on your marksmanship...and you aren't going to get any better if you keep throwing away your gun!"  
  
Max sighed heavily, "I'm trying, Brin. I don't understand myself...usually I'm the perfect soldier. But occasionally...I don't know what causes me to do these things."  
  
Brin peered deeply into Max's eyes. "You aren't still having those dreams, are you?"  
"No," Max said quickly, "thankfully, I haven't had any more dreams. Sometimes your mind can play tricks on you..." her voice trailed away.  
Brin nodded in agreement, "Well, if the dreams do come back, just tell me. I'll make sure you get some meds to make them go away."  
The lights out alarm blared and Brin crossed the aisle to her own cot as Max lay back down. Closing her eyes, Max wondered why she lied to Brin about the dreams. She still had them, at least twice a week, sometimes more than that. At first, they had scared and confused her, that's why she had told Brin. But now, they were comforting, in strange way. For dreams, they seemed so very real, but she knew they couldn't be. She had never been outside of Manticore, so how could she has had this life she kept dreaming about? Manticore was her home, not some swanky apartment, high above a nameless city. The soldiers at Manticore were her family, not the people in her dreams. Sometimes Max thought she was going crazy, and after the way Brin had looked at her when Max confided her dreams, she vowed never to mention them again. Wrapping herself tightly in the military issue blanket, Max fell asleep.  
  
Early the next morning, Brin found herself in Renfro's office. Dwarfed by the large mahogany desk, Renfro looked no less imposing than usual.  
"What you have for me this morning?" She asked.  
Brin stood at military attention, "Madame," she began "it seems we're making progress in the case of X-5452."  
"Progress?" Renfro snorted, "she threw away her rifle during a search and destroy exercise...and I might add, not for the first time! She also still refuses to respond her bar code number! How exactly does that amount to progress?"  
"True, she continues to refer to herself as ' Max ' and insists on addressing me as 'Brin' but at least the dreams have stopped! And she is following directives, with exception to her aversion to weaponry."  
Spearing Brin with one of her infamous ice queen glares, she asked, "And how do you know the dreams have stopped? Because she told you? What makes you think you can trust anything she says? She was the enemy! She deserted, and the only reason she came with 100 miles of Manticore was to destroy everything we've worked for! You really think she's incapable of lying?"  
Brin straightened her spine, "With all due respect, Madame. You said yourself that the Reds implant would have a negative impact on her reprogramming. We have managed to wipe her mind to the point where she has no memory of ever leaving Manticore! She has been re-trained to kill with speed and stealth. The only obstacles that remain are her aversion to guns and the lack of bar-code recognition. I would call that progress, Madame."  
Renfro clenched her fists, she hated to be contradicted, and Brin knew this. Maybe was time to ' refresh ' Brin's reprogramming...  
"Escort X-5452 to the Chamber tonight, I think it's time we tried a new approach with her."  
"Yes Madam!" Brin saluted, spun on her heel and trotted off to morning maneuvers, unaware of the experience she and Max would share that evening.


	4. Aftermath

  
Author Update: For all those who have been asking, the next chapter deals exclusively with Max and her experiences at Manticore. Be patient, it's coming! : )  
  
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Dr. Leo Abrams finished suturing the wound on Cam's head. Nearly six inches in length, the bullet had entered behind her right ear, dug a groove into the skull, and exited above her right temple.  
Logan stood nearby, watching. He had driven straight to Leo's, rather than taking Cam to a hospital. He knew that Manticore, or whoever had tried to kill him, would be watching the area hospitals. Leo was a friend, he had helped Eyes Only in the past and Logan knew he could be trusted.  
  
  
Putting aside his needle, Dr. Abrams sighed and wiped his hand over his face. Squinting up at Logan, he said, "Well, I have to say this girl was extremely lucky. Sometimes bullets can be fickle...they do strange things once they enter the body. By all rights, she should be dead, instead of just having a concussion and 35 stitches."  
Logan sagged against the counter, relieved. "I'm so glad you were home, Leo. I wouldn't have known who trust with this..."  
Leo waved him off. "Think nothing of it, Cale. You got me in touch with Eyes Only and managed to clear my name in that organ harvesting scandal. Without you, I would've been rotting in jail for something I didn't do...I owe you my life." Gesturing at Cam, he said, "This is the least I could do to repay you."  
  
  
Logan nodded absently, staring at Cam. She was beginning to regain consciousness. He moved to the side of the exam table and leaned down, speaking softly. "Cam? Can you hear me? Cam?"  
Her small, pink tongue snaked out, licking her lips. Slowly, Cam's eyes fluttered open and she stared up at Logan. He started, something about her gaze reminded him of Max. It wasn't the eyes...Max's eyes had been a dark, smoky brown, whereas Cam's eyes were bright hazel, the left iris bisected, half hazel, half brilliant green. Shaking off the moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Wha...what happened? My head hurts..." she trailed off weakly.  
  
Dr. Abrams took over, "You were shot, ma'am. Can you tell me your full name?"  
  
"Camille Johnson...everyone calls me Cam."  
  
"Well, everyone-calls-me-Cam, you are an incredibly lucky young lady! Other than a good-sized scar, you'll make a full recovery."  
  
  
Selecting a small flashlight from his tray of instruments, Dr. Abrams checked Cam's pupils. "You do have a concussion, so your head will hurt for a few days. There'll probably be a little vertigo, but nothing really to worry about." Clicking off the light, he prepared a sterile gauze pad and some surgical tape. "Keep the dressing on for the first 24 hours, then let the wound breathe. No showers, no washing your hair, not for awhile. The stitches can come out in 10 to 14 days. Got all that?"  
  
Cam nodded, wincing from the pain. Finished with the bandage, Dr. Abrams stepped back, "Do you have family or friends in the area? You need to keep off your feet for a few days."  
"No...no one close...my brother was the last family I had left." Eyes tearing up, she turned her face away.  
  
Logan looked at Dr. Abrams, then it Cam, her thin form shaking as she wept. He laid his hand on her shoulder, "You can stay with me...I have a guest room, so space isn't a problem."  
  
Without looking at him, Cam said, "No, I couldn't put you to the trouble...you don't even know me!"  
  
"It's no trouble at all. If it wasn't for me, none of this would've happened. It's the least I can do..."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No," Logan cut in, "I insist...no arguments, no apologies."  
  
Cam looked at him warily, as though she were trying to figure out his motivation for the offer. Raising both hands to shoulder level, Logan stepped back.  
  
"I promise I'm not a psycho or a pervert, nothing of the sorts!"  
  
A weak smile came over Cam's face, "Yeah," she said, "you're just a good Samaritan, that gets shot at occasionally."  
  
Logan smiled back, "Something like that.", he answered.  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, after Dr. Abrams had printed out the Codeine prescription and drilled Logan on the care and keeping of Cam's wounds, the two strangers were on their way.  
They were silent for a time, Logan concentrating on the road, Cam leaning back in the passenger seat, eyes closed.  
  
"You awake?"  
  
"Yeah," Cam replied, her voice thick, "I got such a headache...I couldn't sleep if I wanted to."  
  
"Good," Logan said, "remember, you have to stay awake for a while because of the concussion."  
  
"I remember..." opening her eyes, Cam turned her head to look at Logan. "So, are you going to tell me what all that was about? Back at the cemetery?"  
  
Logan sighed, "I was afraid you would ask...it's a long story, rather complicated really."  
  
"Well, give me the condensed version."  
  
"Condensed, huh? okay...I fell into a situation, brought to light some info the government would rather have kept secret, and pissed off whole bunch of people. Now they want me dead...simple as that." He glanced at Cam, trying to gauge her reaction.  
  
With a completely confused look on her face, she said, "Okay...scratch the condensed version...give me the whole story."  
  
"I'd rather not go into it right now...like I said...its long and complicated."  
  
"Oh, I see," Cam said defensively, "you don't think you can trust me! Well, Mr. Cale! I nearly got my head blown off because of you and your 'complicated' story! So I think I deserve to hear what's going on!" Her eyes flashing, she folded her arms and stared out the window.  
  
Logan was amazed by Cam's sudden anger. She reminded him of Max, the way she was pouting, refusing to look at him. ' and in a moment, ' he thought, ' she's going to explode again. Then she'll apologize and act like nothing happened. '   
  
Cam didn't disappoint him. She twisted in her seat and spat, "And another thing! The doctor said I can't go to sleep, I have to stay up so I've got the time! Why won't you tell me?"  
  
She took a shuddering breath, suddenly contrite, she added, "I'm sorry I yelled you...God, he must think I'm a nut..." raising her hands, Cam gingerly massaged her temples, taking care not to touch her bandage.  
  
"No, that's OK, you've been through a lot today...you obviously needed to vent. I don't mind..."  
  
"How did you get to be so nice?" She asked in wonder.  
  
"I honestly don't know...look, why don't you relax, will be in the city soon. I promise that I'll tell you what I can once we get to my place."  
  
"All right... that sounds fine..." leaning back, she closed her eyes again.  
  
Logan stared straight ahead...what was going to tell her? How much is too much, he wondered. What does she need to know and why do I feel so strongly that I should tell her everything? Is it because she reminds me of Max? God, I'm confused...get a grip on yourself! I'll figure out what to do what I...we...get home.  
  
  



	5. Losing it

Author's note: Please forgive me for the delay...I'm begging you! I've been dealing with the worst case of writer's block and everything that's come out of my head has been crap. I didn't want to just post any old thing, so I hope this was worth the wait.  
  
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Max slammed her way into the barracks. Maneuvers had gone badly...again. Today had been different, or so she had thought. After count, Max had picked up a rifle and awaited orders. Same as the previous few days, she was sent to south field, to practice her marksmanship. Taking up position, she sighted down the barrel (no need for a scope, not with her enhanced vision) and carefully squeezed off the first shot. 100 yards away, the head of the target dummy exploded. Max smiled slightly, that had been too easy. Sighting again, she chose a target further down the field. A squeeze of the trigger, a replay of the first shot. Over the next half-hour Max destroyed 15 of the dummies, all but one direct head shots. She had missed the last one after Madam had shown up at the field. Striding up to her, Renfro had barked, "On your feet, X-5452! What was that? I expect better than that from you!"  
  
Max snapped to attention. Saluting, she answered, "Madam! It won't happen again! I broke concentration!"  
  
Renfro sneered at her. Circling as she spoke, she looked Max up and down. "Make sure it doesn't X-5452...just make sure it doesn't. At one time I believed you to be our most promising long-range soldier. Now I'm beginning to doubt that assessment. I don't like to doubt myself, soldier! And those who caused me to do so, I like even less. Now get your head in the game! You're going live this afternoon and I want to see a quick kill. The target shouldn't even know you're coming, got it?"  
  
"Yes, Madam!" Max answered, still holding the salute.  
  
"Carry on, X-5452...just remember, I'll be watching you." Turning on her heel, Renfro stalked back to her Hummer.  
  
Max slumped slightly. There was something about that woman that just didn't sit right with her...she made her uneasy. Turning back to target practice, she could feel Madam's eyes on her.  
  
"Shake it off, soldier!" Max muttered, "she's your CO, there's no reason for the way you feel. Stop being so irrational!" But she couldn't let it go that easily, especially with Madam just 20 yards away, staring at her. That woman made her skin crawl. Max tried to clear her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. But what came to her instead was a memory of her other CO's. In her mind's eye, she saw a man...a strong, wide face, with close cropped hair, mid-forties maybe. She heard him speak, saying, "My enemie's enemy is my friend...remember that...". Then he was replaced by younger man, about Max's age. Blond hair fell across one eye. He was dressed in black, holding a pistol to his head. "Fight them, Maxie...fight them!", he said before he pulled the trigger. Suddenly the sound of her heartbeat echoed in Max's ears, too loud, too strong...she felt ill. "What's happening to me?" she thought, "Is this a hallucination? Or am I still in bed, dreaming? This can't be real...Madam has always been my CO, no one else. Who are these people I keep seeing? The field stretched out before her, broken dummies littering the ground. Max's vision began to tunnel, the trees pressing in until there was just a narrow corridor in front of her. Everything went gray for a moment.   
  
When the fog lifted, Max found herself in the halls of Manticore. Coming toward her was a group of children. They were dressed in hospital gowns, hair cropped close to their scalps. Moving with a furtive grace, the group drew closer, staring at Max with large, haunted eyes. Max felt her heart melt, while her mind argued that these were soldiers, not helpless children...but killing machines. A small girl stood in front of the rest, she cocked her head and smiled at Max.  
  
Reaching out, Max asked, "what's your name, sweetheart?"  
  
The little girl shook her head and placed her left hand on Max's wrist. Still smiling, she raised her right arm and pointed the pistol she was holding at Max's heart.  
  
Max started, unbelieving, and with a nightmare-like slowness, she raised her rifle. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't, so she watched as she blew the little girl's chest apart. Flying back into the mob of children, she crumpled into a loose ball on the floor. Max staggered and felt to her knees next to the wounded child.  
  
"I'm sorry! Oh God, I'm so sorry..."  
  
The little girl reached up and placed her forefinger against Max's lips, hushing her. Weakly, she said, "It's okay...you don't know what you're doing. You just have to fight harder than this, Maxie."  
  
Dissolving into tears, Max tried to stop the bleeding, but the wound was too grave. Her vision growing dark, she began to scream, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do it... I couldn't help it!"   
  
A flash of light and she was back on the practice field, rocking one of the dummies in her lap. Madame stood over her, watching with cool detachment. Brin knelt next to Max, asking, "What the hell was that about? You went crazy out here, talking to imaginary people, firing your rifle into the ground! Then you grabbed one of these dummies and started crying! What's going on?"  
  
Max pushed the dummy off her lap. Trapped, she scrambled for an answer. The dreams were one thing, but there is no way she was telling anyone about what just happened.  
  
"I...I don't know...I started feeling dizzy and then I blacked out...almost like a seizure or something."  
  
Madame crossed her arms, shooting Max a disgusted look. It was obvious she didn't believe her.  
  
"Take X-5452 to the infirmary for some tests," Madame snapped, "wait for the results and report back to me with your findings."  
  
"Yes, Madame!" Brin saluted. Dragging Max to her feet, she hurried her across the field, toward Manticore.  
  
Renfro toed Max's rifle, "Something is going on here." she said, "I don't know what...but I mean to find out...one way or another."  
  
So Max had gone to the infirmary. She had subjected herself to the pokes and prods, the blood tests and CAT scans. According to the doctors, she was normal...well, normal for a genetically enhanced soldier. Settling onto her cot, she curled into a ball and wished herself away. Everything was coming to a head, and she was afraid. She knew that Renfro would have her put down if things didn't stabilize. Or worse yet, she might put her in the basement, with the 'nomalies. Either option was something Max would just rather not think about.  
  
The barracks door opened and Brin stepped inside.  
  
"Max...come with me." She said, "Madame wants to speak with you."  
  
With a groan, Max rose from her cot and started slowly toward the door. Brin looked back over her shoulder, then back at Max. "Hurry up! She's waiting...and after today you really don't want to keep her waiting for too long!"  
  
"OK OK! Keep your pants on!" Breaking into a trot, they went out the door and through the halls.  
  
Passing Madame's office, Max shot a look at Brin. Where were they going? Brin, interpreting Max's look, said, "She's waiting for us in the conference room."  
  
Max didn't believe her, but what choice did she have but to continue toward their destination.  
  
Several minutes later, they rounded the corner and there stood Madame with her usual two guards. Max's radar was up to full alert, something was going to happen here.   
  
Warily, she saluted. "Madame! You requested to see me?"  
  
"Yes X-5452, that I did. There's some things we need to discuss." Motioning to the guard on her right, "Get the door, Jones."  
  
Jones scurried over to the door and swung it open, standing at attention. The room beyond was dark.  
  
"Ladies, after you..." Renfro said.  
  
Max hesitated.  
  
"No offense, soldier, but I'd rather not turn my back on you...self-preservation, you know."  
  
Max shrugged and looked at Brin, who calmly walked through the door. Sighing, Max stepped across the threshold, into the dark. She moved into the center of the room, next to Brin. Max looked around. The room was empty, shaped like a dome, and there was a trench running around the base of the walls, emitting a soft blue glow. While Max was taking this all in, the door slammed shut behind them.  
  
Launching herself at the door, Max screamed, "You bitch! I knew this was a trap!"  
  
Touching the metal of the door, an electric shock jolted through her body, knocking her back. Brin stood in the center of the room, confusion clouding her eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen! It was Max they wanted, not her!  
  
Renfro's voice came over a hidden loudspeaker, "Well, well...that when better than expected! Now that I have you contained, it's time to work on those attitudes of yours..."  
  
A soft hissing noise filled the air. Max and Brin huddled together, each one convinced that this was the end. A creeping mist covered the floor, it had a vague medicinal smell. They held their breath for as long as they could, but ultimately, their bodies betrayed them. Breathing deeply of the tainted air, they collapsed into a tangled heap.  
  
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	6. What now?

Author's Note: I just wanted to say that I'm sincerely sorry that it's been ages since my last chapter update. These last six months has been, by far, the most trying of my entire adult life, but things are starting to look up...and I think I'm about ready to continue with my writing. The updates won't be as constant as when I first started...but I promise...no more six month sabbaticals!   
  
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Waking slowly, Max heard a high-pitched metallic whine somewhere off to her left. Not sure as to what she would be faced with, Max peeked from beneath her lowered lashes. Across the room, Brin lay strapped to a table, surrounded by doctors. Multiple tubes snaked from her body and her head was captured in a cruel looking harness. Poised over her inert form was a large machine that seemed to be emitting some sort of particle beam. Max could see Brin quietly convulsing as the machine covered her in a veil of blue light. Madame stood nearby, watching with her characteristic detached look. One of the doctors stepped away from the table and approched Renfro, a worried look on his face.  
  
"Madame...may I speak?" he asked.  
  
Renfro sighed, "If you must, Dr. Benoit."  
  
"This X-5 can't take much more. If we don't cut down on the dose we may kill her."  
  
"It's no concern of mine whether she lives or dies, Doctor. All I want is for the limits to be tested on this machine."  
  
"But.."  
  
"Listen to me carefully, Peter." Madame snapped, "I want to know exactly how much that X-5 can stand...and then I want you to turn it down a notch before you use it on 452. I want her completely wiped...but functional. Any of the others are disposible...but not 452. Am I making myself clear?"  
  
Speechless, the doctor nodded his head as he turned back to the machine. He had never wanted the government contract in the first place, and look at him now. Standing by as a life was being destroyed. Ashamed, he turned his face away as he adjusted the setting on the machine...refusing to watch as the pretty young girl on the table shook more violently.   
  
Max maintained the illusion of unconciousness as her mind raced. She had to get out before it was her turn under the beam.   
  
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Logan sat quietly, trying to judge Cam's reaction to everything he had just told her. On the way back to Seattle he had struggled with how much to reveal, especially to someone he had just met. Turning the story over and over in his mind, Logan finally decided to start at the beginning and just let the rest come as it may.   
  
"Her name was Max...and I loved her," he began, and didn't stop talking for nearly an hour. Now Cam knew the whole truth, and he waited for her response.   
  
"Wow...I don't know what to say. I'm sorry I pressured you to tell me. It's obviously still a painful subject." Lifting her head, she made eye contact with Logan. "You've had so many bad things happen to you, and yet you're still so..." her voice trailed away.  
  
"So?" Logan asked.  
  
"I don't know...helpful? Concerned with others? Look what you've done for me...taking me in like this. You didn't have to do that, you know...you don't owe me anything..I'm the one that owes you my life."  
  
Logan waved off her explaination, "I just did what anyone would do..."  
  
"No. You've done more than most. You're a good man, Logan...and you'll be OK once you come out on the other side of your loss." Leaning forward, Cam took Logan's hands in her own. Looking into his eyes, she repeated, "You're a good man..."  
  
Flustered, Logan pulled his hands free and stood, mumbling something about putting her things in the guest room. Settling back into the couch, Cam watched him walk away and wondered if it would ever truly be alright for Logan..or if he would ever recover from the pain he was feeling.  
  
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Dr. Peter Benoit felt his stomach turn over as the X-5 gave one last strangled cry before dying. She had lasted much longer than he thought possible, which made it worse for him. He was a doctor, commited to saving lives, not snuffing them out under a machine of his own design. He wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Shutting down the machine, he was met with an icy stare from Renfro.   
  
"What do you think you're doing, Doctor? We have to get 452 under there before the sedative wears off...we don't have time to let her get combative."  
  
Benoit stood his ground, "The machine has to cycle down periodically or else it may overheat. I'm sure Madame doesn't have time for that either, am I right?"  
  
"Fine! Just make sure we're ready to go within the next 20 minutes...and not a second longer." Snapping her fingers at one of the door guards, she barked, "You! Get over here and clear out this area! Get the remains down to the lab for analysis." Turning, she switched her tone..."And you, Doctor...since you seem to be enjoying your job so much....why don't you prep 452 for her turn? Call me as soon as we're ready to begin." Striding out of the room, she didn't even wait for an answer.  
  
Benoit crossed the room and stood next to Max's table. Staring down, he realized how beautiful 452 was...and how unfair it was that she was considered Manticore property. She only looked about 20...the same age as Benoit's own daughter. Her dark hair seemed almost alive, fanned out over the white, sterile drape, and her eyelashes curved, long and black, against her cheeks. This was a girl, for God's sake! She should be out at a party...away at school...a young mother...anything but what she was, a government created, and owned, killer. Benoit had to remind himself of that. No matter how he may feel about this project, it didn't change the fact that the test subjects were dangerous. Reluctantly, he went about the task of positioning Max under the machine.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Renfro sat in her office, fuming. How dare that arrogant little bastard speak to her like that in front of others. Hadn't she been more than helpful in his research? Now he wants to bite the hand that feeds? So be it...as soon as 452's wipe was complete, Renfro would deal with Dr. Benoit personally.  
  
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Max had watched as Madame and Dr. Benoit had argued over Brin. She had watched as he turned away, and seen the look on his face as Brin died. He cared, he was compassionate, he was as close to a friend as she had in this place. If she was going to move, it had to be soon. As the doctor hovered over her, adjusting the straps and tubes, Max opened her eyes a bit. "Hey Doc..." she whispered, "a little help?". Benoit started, nearly losing his grip on the catheter needle he was holding. Keeping his back to the remaining guard at the door, he glanced down. Benoit found himself caught in Max's gaze. 'She has eyes like a doe,' he thought, 'so deep, dark...wary.'  
  
"What are you talking about?" he whispered back, "What can I do?"  
  
"Get me out of here...I'm not going under the beam...no way."  
  
Benoit glanced around, "That's impossible...how will you get away?"  
  
Max gave a slight shrug, as much as the straps would allow. "Did it once...and I was just a kid then..."  
  
"Yeah, but there were a bunch of you then. Why should I help you anyway?"  
  
"It'll piss off Blondie...plus, I think you're pretty much done here. Most people that embarress her in front of others end up on the practice field as live targets. She's funny like that..."  
  
"True..." Benoit threw another glance in the direction of the guard. Reaching down, he fumbled with Max's restraints. In a few moments she was free, but still lying prone on the table.   
  
"Ok Doc, just get down and stay down. At least until the shooting is over."   
  
Max was up and away before Benoit even registered movement. He dropped to the floor, only to see the guard already down. "C'mon!" Max shouted, "We've got to get you out too...Madame will just kill you when she gets back."  
  
Benoit stood quickly and began gathering his papers. Shoving them all into a briefcase, he turned to leave. Pausing, he turned a few dials on the machine, and ran for Max as a high warbling schreech filled the air. "We have a few minutes to get as far from this thing as we can! I'm not quite sure what'll happen when it goes...but it should be big!"  
  
Wrenching open the door, they fled into the hallway. 


End file.
